


The Obverse

by apollofastingdionysusdrunk (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Revolutionaries In Love, Slash, Stupidity, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/apollofastingdionysusdrunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”Worthless fool,” Enjolras hissed, ”go away, drunkard, we have no need of you here.  Not in this meeting and not at the barricade when they arise. You are a cynic among revolutionaries and idealists. You are lazy and undetermined and hide behind your glass of wine. You don’t even try to fix it! Don’t you care about anything?” Now redness was beginning to creep unto Enjolras’ pale neck, as his handsome features turned scornful. ”I never have seen a more dispassionate and satirical human.”</p><p>In which Enjolras says something he immediately regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Obverse

Grantaire sighed, for the umpteenth time that morning, lying in his bed tucked in a quivering heap, miserable and pathetic with a brain riding on the tides of absinthe. He was always cynical of the idea of love, or flinched at the thought of it - just take one look of Marius and his unknown mistress, and how the young law student had became a pining dog at the prospect of it. Love will plunge you into the depths of its sweet seduction and then drown you until your lungs are filled with poison. 

He turned away from the blinding light shining through the window. He wasn’t in the mood to be drunk on sunlight, too busy bathing in the shadows that engulfed his wounds. He thought meeting Enjolras would change his life, for a minute or two there, through idle daydreams, through listening to his speeches, words entwined by an idealistic man driven by ambition and love of his country. But he wasn’t an innocent little boy anymore, he had learned that after his time with Gros. It was a foolish thought, by its own accord; Enjolras was everything he wished he was, everything he wasn’t, and everything he believe in, loved, and venerated. He wouldn’t pay Grantaire the slightest bit of attention - and Grantaire craved for it. Hence why he was always so pathetic and miserable, yet vain and jolly enough to fool someone. 

But last night was still stuck in his mind, wouldn’t go away like a stubborn child refusing to go to sleep. Enjolras’ words sliced through him and found his flaws, landing on every last one of them, a striking blow that the sting lives on. Grantaire wanted to rub it away, erase it until his skin no longer bled. 

”Worthless fool,” Enjolras hissed, ”go away, drunkard, we have no need of you here. Not in this meeting and not at the barricade when they arise. You are a cynic among revolutionaries and idealists. You are lazy and undetermined and hide behind your glass of wine. You don’t even try to fix it! Don’t you care about anything?” Now redness was beginning to creep unto Enjolras’ pale neck, as his handsome features turned scornful. ”I never have seen a more dispassionate and satirical human.”

It was silence after that. Combeferre, sternly, laid a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, adding, ”Enjolras, that is enough. I think this commentary would be one thing we will never appreciate from you.”

Courfeyrac was shaking his head at their leader, who was beginning to look regretful.

”Well, then,” Grantaire laughed, hastily. Always a joker trying to make a fun out of things. ”I am going to leave you revolutionaries with your revolutionary plans, then.”

Enjolras closed his eyes. Pinched the bridge of his nose. ”C-can we pretend I did not just…say that?”

”You just can’t erase words from the ears and the mouth, Enjolras.” Grantaire scoffed. For an intellectual man, he can be terribly oblivious sometimes. ”That’s not how life works.”He could see Feuilly and Prouvaire and the rest trying to grip his hand before he stumbled through the doors of the Café Musain.

”Grantaire! Grantaire!” He blanched when he heard the familiar voice, usually laconic and stringent, now sounded uncharacteristically desperate and urgent. ”Please, Grantaire, open the door. I understand with true intent if you don’t want to, but please…”

”What do you want?” Grantaire yelled back, sure that Enjolras will hear him. His apartment was small, as he was living in an average tenant, and the walls were thin. A drunkard doesn’t require much, just an intimate connection. Of course, it was beyond his imagination to have Enjolras at his door, but now he had let things go. Or he hoped to.

”To apologize.” And just like that - the Enjolras he knew, the Enjolras he was familiar to, getting down to the point and pointing it to his purpose. But these two words were personal, and that struck a note in Grantaire that made him endear the leader even more. Perhaps he idolized the man too much that he had been carved into pure marble, that he had forgotten marble could break under pressure too. 

With this in mind, the man found the courage to get up out of bed. When he opened the door to let Enjolras in, he can’t help but marvel at Enjolras’ beauty; if it were light, it would be even more wonderful than a sunrise. He let his hand be held by Enjolras’, and felt a warm shudder slither down his spine when he looked into his eyes, bleeding with concern. 

‘’Grantaire, yes, I…I have come to apologize.’’ The briefest of silence ensued. ‘’For the things I’ve said yesterday.’’ He looked thoroughly uncomfortable. 

The other man chuckled, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms. ‘’One of my friends told you to come here, right? You didn’t come with the intention of simply apologizing, right?’’ 

‘’No, it’s not true!’’ Enjolras denied. ‘’Well, Prouvaire, Combeferre, and about the rest of the Les Amis had been reminding me, of course they will, they care and they’re better than me at friendship. However, Grantaire - do you honestly deem me as heartless, as disparaging, as unfair as what you depicted my character to be?’’

‘’Not at all,’’ Grantaire replied, fiercely than ever. ‘’You’re none of those things, only a fool can think of it. And I may be a fool, but I am a smart fool. You can be kind, you are loving, you are passionate, and you are human, just as any of us. Even…even if it’s difficult to see through sometimes.’’ 

Enjolras didn’t say anything, though Grantaire can practically hear his brain thinking things through. 

‘’Come in,’’ he added hurriedly, and Enjolras followed him in. ‘’Do you want any-’’

‘’No,’’ was the abrupt answer. He peaked up at the taller man behind his lashes, and was surprised to find him returning his gaze. 

‘’Grantaire,’’ he started. ‘’I have to tell you something, a confession that’s been stored in my chest for months, that has been bugging with my soul for days, telling me to pick up the courage-’’

‘’Goddamn,’’ Grantaire growled. ‘’Enjolras, let it out.’’ 

‘’I am in love with you.’’ 

‘’W-what?’’ So shocked as he was that he thought he didn’t hear the right words, but a part of him, so sure and certain, knew that what he heard wasn’t a delusion. 

‘’I am, with the most ardent passion,’’ Enjolras insisted, and he could feel the other man’s arms slither around his waist, and he pressed their chests tighter together. ‘’I will gladly take those spiteful words away if I could, but sadly such miracles do not exist. Look, I am garbage at love confessions, I have never touched a man nor woman in a way of attraction. But you…’’ he was cut off by Grantaire’s lips, pressing against his own in desperate need. That was all the answer he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a critic! :)


End file.
